A Regressed Villain: Heroines, Villainesses and Me?

"It may be surprising, but it's true," Avendial replied, noting the sheer bewilderment etched on Etrinia's face.

Yet, despite her astonishment, there lingered a flicker of belief in her eyes, which was precisely what he had hoped to evoke.

His proclamation had solid foundations; given that Astara Diego was a noblewoman, it was highly plausible that she had already warned Etrinia against sharing any critical information—even if it meant resorting to threats.

Thus, Avendial decided to exploit that very threat, intending to channel all of Etrinia's repressed anger toward the Ravan family.

Considering her situation, it wouldn't be surprising if she found it reasonable to take his words at face value.

After all, why would he lie?

"No, how? I don't understand," Etrinia stammered, struggling to grasp the implication that, if his words were true, the people attacking her likely hailed from Astara's camp.

She had previously developed a positive impression of Astara, interpreting her warnings as genuine and well-intentioned.

Astara's claim that the likelihood of her own family assaulting Etrinia was minimal had helped Etrinia brace for a scenario that now appeared to be unravelling before her very eyes.

The thought that such a betrayal could ever occur had never even crossed her mind.

Etrinia wanted to doubt Avendial's assertions, yet the problem lay in the fact that someone of Marquess status had no motive to deceive her.

"Why are they targeting my father?" Etrinia eventually asked, grappling with the realization that the Ravan family would focus their attention on her father.

"Miss Etrinia, allow me to clarify a few things for you," Avendial began, pleased to see her maintain a professional demeanor amidst the turmoil.

"Just like most nobles, we are always eager to forge profitable connections to ascend the social hierarchy.

Though it isn't officially acknowledged, let's consider it a type of nobility: if one favor could bolster our family's wealth and grant us greater control over certain business sectors in the Kingdom of Thaloris, we would pursue it."

While his explanation might seem unnecessary in this tense moment, he aimed to lay a groundwork of difficult yet plausible information, ensuring her mind remained engaged while also keeping open the possibility that she could find truth in his words.

"...But why me?" Etrinia asked, expecting that this matter would somehow relate to her directly, but now it appeared to be more intricately tied to the interests of the nobility, specifically the Ravan family, who held a ducal title.

"Because... no, you won't trust me until you see it for yourself," Avendial began to elaborate further, but he was suddenly distracted.

His gaze had locked onto someone in the street, their familiar shape and gait compelling him to rise from his seat.

Etrinia, confused by his sudden movement, followed his line of sight until her eyes landed on a woman passing through the street, seemingly accompanied by two bodyguards.

This sight left her momentarily blank as she turned her gaze back to Avendial, realizing, in the end, that he was just a man too.

The woman walking by appeared to be an aged beauty, her face still exquisite, marking her as a figure resembling a noblewoman.

Her distinct gait and the elegance that surrounded her brought undeniable confidence to her presence.

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As Avendial's gaze locked onto the woman strolling down the street, his eyes sharpened with recognition.

Rising from his seat without hesitation, his usually composed demeanor now bore an air of casual amusement as he made his way out of the hotel.

The balcony's proximity to the street made it easy for him to lean over the railing before calling out to the woman passing by.

"Lady Margaret," he called, his voice smooth and deliberately confident.

"I must say, you appear as beautiful as ever."

'!?'

"A-a molest—whoa, handsome man!" exclaimed the assistant following Margaret, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected flattery directed at her honor in the bustling streets of the Free City.

She was poised to instruct her bodyguards to confront the man who dared make such an audacious remark.

But as she turned, her gaze fell upon a striking figure — a man with silver hair and piercing blue eyes, casually leaning against the white railing of a nearby café-hotel.

The sunlight filtered through the air, catching the glint in his eyes, and suddenly the assistant's words caught in her throat.

Margaret's steps faltered for an instant as she recognized the deep, unmistakable voice.

Her sharp eyes darted around before landing on him, her initial confusion giving way to realization.

She turned fully to face him, her lips parting slightly in shock.

"Sir Croceaus?" she asked, disbelief dripping from her words.

"What in the world are you doing here?"

A hint of curiosity colored her tone as her vigilant gaze studied him, taken aback by his sudden appearance in a place so far removed from the Kingdom of Thaloris.

"I never imagined I'd see the Marquess outside his own borders.

You've always been a figure of importance to the kingdom…

I can't say this is what I expected."

Avendial smirked, his charm unwavering and familiar.

"I like to surprise people," he replied, his gaze sweeping over her in a way that conveyed he knew exactly how to make an impact.

"And the Free City has its own... appeal.

Though I must admit, I didn't expect to encounter someone as captivating as you here."

Margaret's lips curved into a slow, deliberate smile, her eyes narrowing with a mix of amusement and intrigue.

She glanced at her bodyguards, signaling them to keep their distance as she stepped closer to him.

Her cage involuntarily shifted behind her, its glass window revealing two women peering in their direction, making her realize they were likely associated with the Marquess.

The unexpectedness of his presence here didn't align with her assumptions, yet she toyed with the idea of them possibly being business partners regarding some new deal.

Even with all her speculation, and despite knowing he wasn't on a date, she felt the impulse to tease, hoping to lighten the mood of their conversation.

"Marquess," she murmured, a playful warmth threading through her tone.

"And here I thought you'd only ever find solace in your work."

Avendial's smile widened as he leaned back, hands folded casually, reveling in the close distance she maintained.

"Lady Margaret, I've always had a taste for the finer things in life."

He gave her a pointed look, the weight of his words heavy with intent.

"And as you can see, I came to greet the most exquisite thing walking the streets."

She laughed softly, yet the challenge in her eyes was unmistakable. Experience exclusive tales on empire

"You haven't changed a bit, Marquess," she teased, folding her arms with a coy expression.

"But I must ask — is your health alright, given that I was unable to inquire or contact you after that night?"

In truth, the reason for her failed call was rather mundane: it never made it past the secretary of butlers.

Even if it had, she would have only learned that the Marquess was not currently present in the territory.

This led her to assume that perhaps he wasn't keen on having a conversation with her and was, as was so typical, avoiding the phone call.

However, it turned out that Marcus was, in fact, absent from the estate.

With this in mind, Margaret maintained her usual composure and offered an apology, even though she had made an effort to reach him without success.

"No, it's perfectly fine.

So, what brings you here?" Avendial asked, noting that his own presence was due to a meeting with Dr. Etrinia and a specific individual he needed to address.

The serendipity of their encounter was not lost on him.

The complication arose from the fact that the person he was there to meet shared the same business interests as Margaret, planting a seed of doubt in his mind about her purpose for being there.

He wondered if she was there for a meeting with the same individual.

"Sir Croceaus," Margaret replied, "I'm here regarding the opening of a new branch for our perfume division.

I was just about to meet with someone named Cristopher Adriaha."

As she spoke, she elaborated on the landowner who owned most of the properties in the area, particularly one that was central to her plans for the new shop she had been working on for months.

She recalled attending a banquet hosted by a princess, all in pursuit of potential investors.

While the primary investor was definitely the Marquess, it was also true that investment often involved connections, which were crucial for establishing the new branch.

"I see," Avendial replied, sensing a possible collaborative opportunity.

"How about I accompany you?"

With the mention of a name that wasn't the same as the one he had come to deal with, he felt it would be harmless to join her.

He reasoned that the person he was searching for might coincide with this meeting, and besides, discussing fragrances and perfumes with an expert like Margaret would surely make for a delightful conversation.

"Huh? Yes, why not," Margaret responded, slightly puzzled but agreeing to his suggestion.

As she did, she noticed two women nearby who were watching her with expressions that clearly conveyed suspicion, prompting a smile to form as she noticed jealousy in one of their eyes.

"By the way Marquess, who are those ladies?"

"Make a guess," Avendial replied, and instead of entering, he just jumped over the railing, arriving outside.

He noticed how the assistant's eyes were wide and mouths agape, looking toward him as he understood they were probably shocked to see that he was Marquess Croceaus.

"Um, your new wives?"